


Trapped

by DonovanS



Series: Mormor OneShots [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Preseries, Sexual Content, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonovanS/pseuds/DonovanS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally, Jim could laugh off snow, like all weather, as unimportant at worse, an excuse to stay home and work at it’s best.</p><p>But eight days, eight fucking days, of snow. Wet, cold, unpleasant, heavy snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

Snow.

Jim was starting to hate snow.

 

Normally, of course, that was not the case. 

Normally, Jim could laugh off snow, like all weather, as unimportant at worse, an excuse to stay home and work at it's best.

But eight days, eight fucking days, of snow. Wet, cold, unpleasant, heavy snow.

 

Going to America had been a terrible idea. He'd said it when it was suggested and had mentioned that he'd said it everyday since.

 

He was grating more on Sebastian's nerves than the snow ever could.

 

"Boss, don't take this personally but do _shut up_." Sebastian cooed from his spot in an old leather swivel chair set at a very well-worn wooden desk, his voice calm but his eyes narrowed and boring holes into Jim's forehead.

 

Jim had been talking to him about nothing for the passed hour. Just pacing this way and that in the center room of the large log cabin they had rented for the month, rambling on and on about anything that came to mind. Mostly how bored he was.

They were in the middle of nowhere, New Hampshire, in the middle of the woods, waiting for a mark to leave on a hunting trip that a sudden and bizarrely strong blizzard had postponed for yet another month. Jim was clearly losing what little sanity he had to a near literal case of Cabin Fever.

 

"I cannot _shut up,_ Moran." Jim hissed, kicking one of his companion's slippers as hard as he could and watched it bounce of the wall, sending a rather cliche painting of a snowy farmyard crashing to the floor near the kitchen island.

The glass frame shattered but neither man cared enough to even acknowledge it.

 

"Jim. Sit down." Sebastian replied calmly.

 

"No." Jim didn't budge. His hands balled into fists, squeezing the fabric of his jeans between his fingers and palm. 

 

"Jimmy. Please." 

 

That earned Seb a look of pure hatred but he did give in, slowly releasing his fists and sinking into the sofa in front of the fireplace.

 

"I know that you're bored Boss, okay?" The Colonel stood up from his desk and strut over to the smaller man. "I get that you're upset, yeah?"

Another step forward and Sebastian dropped to his knees between his employer's legs.

 

"You don't know what it's like Moran." Jim purred, running his fingers through his sniper's hair before slipping down to stroke a thumb over his jawline. "I can feel my brain decaying, dribbling down the sides of my head." 

 

Moriarty had that glossed over look in his eyes, a look Seb knew too well at this point. This was beyond boredom, this was near complete mental breakdown, the lack of stimulation driving Jim to the very corners of his mind, over and over again he was turning knobs that shouldn't be turned, over-thinking everything, dissecting himself. 

 

"I found the most interesting website. Run by a 'consulting detective.'" Jim continued, hand back in Seb's hair as the larger man mouthed at the crotch of his jeans. He was all too pleased to hear Jim's sharp intake of air. "He-he's brilliant. I'll destroy him."

 

Jim voice had gone darker, matching his eyes as Sebastian took his zipper between his teeth and slide his fly open.


End file.
